—You sure you want to go there? —Semiel asked as they walked down the sidewalk— That café's egg sandwich makes me question my life choices.
—Yeah, exactly why —Saval replied with a faint smile— I like living on the edge.
The place wasn't packed, but busy enough that they had to share a table. Sitting across from each other with steaming cups, both seemed determined to act like what happened days ago hadn't happened at all.
Semiel stirred sugar into his coffee slowly, watching the whirlpool form around his spoon. Saval studied the menu despite already knowing his order. A quiet tension wrapped around them—not uncomfortable, but palpable. Like the air between them carried new weight.
—Sleep okay? —Semiel glanced up briefly.
—Slept fine... just thinking —Saval set the menu aside— About a few things.
—Things like...?
—Streams, classes... —a pause— And other stuff.
Semiel nodded without pushing. He fiddled with a napkin, debating whether to say more. His chest still remembered the flutter when Saval leaned in and their lips brushed. It hadn't been clumsy or dramatic—just simple, unexpected, and it'd turned his world upside down.
—Do you regret it? —The words slipped out.
Saval looked at him, confused at first, then understanding immediately.
—The kiss?
Semiel dropped his gaze with a nod.
Saval took a few seconds.
—No. I don't —he finally said— But... I'm trying to figure out what it all means.
The waiter arrived with perfect timing, granting them silence. They ordered halfheartedly: coffee, egg sandwich, papaya juice.
When they were alone again, Semiel cradled his cup, warmth seeping through the ceramic.
—I don't regret it either —he said quietly— But I'm scared.
—Scared?
—That what we have might change. Or break —he murmured— That this could throw us off course.
Saval rested his elbows on the table, gaze softening.
—Me too... I don't want to lose this. You're my friend, Semiel. And now I don't know what else you are, but... I don't want you disappearing from my life because of this.
Semiel swallowed. A knot of dread stuck in his throat, eased only by a sip of coffee.
—We can take it slow —he finally said— Nobody's rushing us, right?
Saval smiled, somewhat relieved.
—Slow sounds good.
Breakfast arrived. For a while they focused on eating, chatting about small things—a meme Saval saw that morning, an old stream clip, a college story. Laughter returned, tentative but real. The invisible thread remained, but no longer pulled tight.
When they stepped outside, the sun hung soft and high. They ambled down the sidewalk, each carrying unfinished juice cups.
—Plans for today? —Semiel asked.
—Some reading... maybe gaming tonight.
—Streaming?
—Maybe. Wanna join?
Semiel glanced sideways.
—Yeah... if that's okay.
—Of course it is.
Then it happened. Saval's juice cup slipped slightly in his grip. Not a big deal, but his reflexive jerk made him tense. Without thinking, Semiel reached out and steadied his fingers.
A light touch, but deliberate. Their skin lingered a second longer than necessary. Without words, without fanfare, they looked at each other.
Just that: looking.
Saval didn't pull away. Neither did Semiel. The juice was saved, but something else began spilling inside them.
—Thanks —Saval murmured.
—Anytime —Semiel replied, still not letting go.
The sun shone, the street carried on, people passed by. But there, in that moment, the world belonged only to them.
And though neither spoke again, something in the air had irrevocably changed.